


The Midnight March

by DisasterStraight



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 03:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18379655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterStraight/pseuds/DisasterStraight
Summary: Relapse is part of recovery, but that doesn't make it easy. In essence, you get a call from the Saloon and have to help Shane get home.





	The Midnight March

**Author's Note:**

> It's as edited as it's gonna get fellas. bear with me here

11 o’clock. 

That’s how long you waited for Shane to come home. 

He’d gone out that morning in a bad mood and you hadn’t heard a word from your husband since. You were terrified that he’d gotten lost in the woods or hurt by some monster loose from the caves. You’d looked all around your property for a sign of him, but hadn’t found anything. Eventually you decided that you should wait at home in case he came back needing help.

11 o’clock is when you got the call. You should’ve seen it coming, you were just so sure that he was better. He’d been going to therapy and he seemed happy on the farm. You thought that the part of your life where you had to get these calls was over. 

“Y/N, it’s Gus,” said Gus. “Could you come down to the Saloon and--”

He was cut off by a voice in the background.

“Don’t--don’t call them!” Shane slurred. You let out a tired sigh. You were kicking yourself for not considering this as an option. “Gus, goddamnit, you can’t call them!”

“It’s Shane, he--”

“Yeah, I can hear him.”

“Gus, gimme the phone. Jus’ gimme it!”

You could hear scuffling and swearing on the other end as Shane and Gus grappled for the phone. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Suddenly your loss of sleep was catching up to you. You wished Shane had just come home when he was supposed to so you could both be in bed right now.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N?” camed Shane’s voice over the speaker.

“Yeah, Shane. I’m here.”

“Look, Y/N, you don’t have to come down here. I’m just really tired and Gus says I can sleep here.”

“You cannot sleep here!” Gus protested.

“Shut up!” Shane hissed. “You don’t have to come, Y/N. Please. It’s fine.”

You sighed. Gus was trying to wrestle back the phone from Shane while he continued to tell you that you didn’t need to come down, that he was going to walk home and you should just go to bed.

Shane had been sober for over a year now. You knew it had been hard for him, that he woke up some mornings wanting nothing more than to haul ass to the nearest convenience store and drain a six pack just to quiet the sound of his own head. You’d been there with him on those mornings when his entire self seemed to be plotting against him. He hadn’t talked about it in a few weeks and you thought that meant he was feeling better. That the therapy had been helping. That you had been helping.

“Shane, please give Gus the phone.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. Don’t--”

“Shane, just give Gus the phone.” Your voice was deadly calm, and Shane must’ve heard it because after a moment of silence on the end of the line, Gus’ panting voice came over.

“Can you handle him for a few while I come down?”

“Yes, yes!” Gus let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be down in twenty.”

In the end, it only took you fifteen minutes to get to the Stardrop. By the time you arrived Shane was slumped over the counter, mumbling to himself. He heard you come in and swiveled to face you and immediately turning his back to you again. 

“Thank goodness you’re here, Y/N!” Gus cried. “I was worried I would have to peel him off the floor in the morning!”

You could only nod, too drained to give more. You put a hand on Shane’s shoulder and gently shook him, although you knew he was awake.

“Come on, Shane. Time to go home.”

He groaned under your touch, barely shifting. He was hiding his head under his arms like a little kid. If you’d had the energy, it would have irritated you. All of this would’ve irritated you. But, luckily for Shane, you didn’t have the energy, and your lack of sleep had granted you a kind of empty patience.

“Shane, Gus is going to close and I’m going back home. You’re only allowed to stay with one of us tonight, and it’s not Gus.”

Slowly, Shane shuffled off the stool, nearly losing his balance. You caught him in your strong, farm-worked arms and held him up straight. He tried to pull away from you and stand on his own, but you held him firm.

“Put your arm over my shoulder. Let’s go,” you said softly, looping your arm under his. He obeyed, putting a limp arm over you. “Goodnight, Gus! I’ll take care of the bill in the morning,” you said over your shoulder.

“Have a good night, Y/N. Take care of yourself, Shane!” he called back.

“Screw you, traitor!” Shane yelled. You slapped him lightly on the hand and apologized to Gus before heading out onto the street to make the walk home.

Every one of Shane’s steps was a gamble. Would his legs hold, or would they crumple? He had about a fifty-fifty shot each time, and would’ve wiped out more than once without you there to steady him. He was really sloppy drunk that night. He could hardly stand, let alone string together a sentence.

“‘S jus’ like the goddamn shelves, Y/N,” he slurred. “‘S’like every day I’m jus’ stackin’ cans on shelves even though I’m not stackin’ cans, y’know?”

“Not really.”

“I jus’ gotta keep wakin’ up every mornin’. Gotta be in my own goddamn skin all day an’ then I gotta go to sleep in my skin again.”

You kept your eyes on the dark path in front of you. You didn’t want to trip on a rock and send both you and Shane into the dirt, and you were worried that you would lose your fragile patience if you paid too much attention to what he was saying. 

“I jus’ hate it. I hate wakin’ up all the time. An’ I jus’ wanna go back to sleep and stay there, but then I see you right there and I don’t.” His whole body started to shudder against you as he stopped walking. You stopped with him and looked over to him. His eyes were watery and shining in the lantern light. Even his teeth were shaking.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to say, but Shane cut you off.

“An’ you ‘n Jas ‘r the best things that’ve ever happen’d to me an’ I jus’ keep letting you down.”

He fell to the ground on his knees like a ragdoll, shaking and crying. You crouched down beside him and tried to hold his hands, but he yanked them away.

“All I do ‘s mess things up. An’ now you’re gonna know what a big fat useless sack of trash I am an’ you’re gonna leave. You’re gonna know that you should’a left a long time ago an’--”

You kissed him gently. You couldn’t stand to hear another word of it. If it had been anyone but Shane saying those things about him, you would’ve smacked them silly, and you sure as Hell weren’t letting Shane get away with it.

“I love you, Shane,” you told him. You kept your voice just soft enough for him to hear over the sounds of wind through the trees and the occasional call of late night birds. “I love you and I think you’re an amazing person who is way too hard on himself. I don’t know what else I can tell you right now other than I love you, and I’ll do whatever I can to make you see what I do when I look at you. Can we start by going home?”

“Alright,” he said weakly.

“Alright,” you said back. You helped Shane back onto his feet and stumbled the rest of the way back to the farm house.

You helped him take off his shoes and clothes and settled him in your shared bed. With a kiss on the forehead and the promise to be back in a minute, you left to get a bucket, glass of water, and bottle of ibuprofen. By the time you got back to the bedroom, Shane was fast asleep. You made sure he was asleep on his side, facing the bucket, and climbed into bed beside him.

You wrapped your hands over his chest, taking in the heat and softness of him. You hadn’t heard him breath so heavily while he slept in a long time. He smelled like beer and peanuts from the bar, and under that you could smell the hay and chicken feed, and a hint of the perfume that Jas liked to play around with. You pulled him even closer, suddenly afraid that it would be the last time you get to feel him.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you whispered into his neck.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“I dunno. All of it. Love you.”

You smiled in the darkness. “I love you too.”

“I’ll see you when I wake up.”

“I’ll see you when you wake up, Shane.”


End file.
